From One Everdeen Woman to Another
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: Romances. Marriages. Sex. Affairs. Death. A look at love both before the arena and after. "And then... I cry out as Peeta rears his head forward and takes me in his mouth. He quite literally buries his face between my legs, his magical tongue plundering deep into my core... I suck in a breath, startled, and only have enough of my wits about me to hold him and somewhat kiss back."
1. Chapter 1: Make Love To Your Tribute

**Chapter 1: Make Love To Your Tribute**

**Katniss's POV **

It is late at night, and the penthouse twelfth floor is quiet when Peeta Mellark and I exit the hotel. Haymitch Abernathy and Effie Trinket went upstairs and retired to bed ahead of us, after the interviews. Now the preparations are all complete. There is no more delaying the inevitable. Tomorrow, I will be going into the arena as the female tribute for the 76th Annual Hunger Games.

For decades and decades, being a tribute from District 12 has been tantamount to a death sentence. Until recently, only two people from District 12 in about three-quarters of a century had gotten out of the arena alive. One of them died before I was born; the other, Haymitch, is a drunk and has (until recently) been viewed as comedic fodder.

But now there are three Victors from District 12. Not two, but three.

Peeta Mellark, the Merchant Baker's youngest son, was Reaped for the arena two years ago, when we were both 16. Every day that he survived, every tribute that he outlasted, made District 12 become more and more excited. He made it to the Top Two opposite a Career tribute from District 2 and defeated him in a climactic battle on top of the Cornucopia.

Now, in my very last Reaping, I have been selected for the annual fight to the death. But at least Peeta's survival gives me hope - and hope to tributes after me for probably several more years to come. If it was only Haymitch still alive, I would write off any chance I have and declare I am as good as dead.

But in mentoring me, Peeta has done his level-best to ensure that that will not happen. He has played up my skills as a huntress to the media, amplifying the thread when I ran the table in Training Scores and generated for myself a good bit of Capitol buzz. He has shared some of the burden in coaching me for my interview, because he knows as well as I that one can only take so many hours of guidance from Effie Trinket. Haymitch has been happy to relegate himself to the back seat and let his so-far only successful protégé take the reins.

Peeta walks me to my bedroom door and we pause in front of it to bid our goodbyes. They aren't final (the truly last adieus will come in the morning), but something about these exchanges feels final. Peeta must sense the solemnity in my voice as I bid him goodnight, for he tells me: "You'll win, Katniss. We'll see each other tomorrow and we'll see each other again when you walk out alive in two weeks, give or take."

I take his hand and squeeze it. "Thank you, Peeta. But you don't have to pretend or be optimistic for me..."

"No!" he says flatly. "I can't watch you die! I won't let you die!" He actually sounds emotional. "Katniss... I love you!"

My mouth drops open in amazement. My mind is a fog, so that I have no wits about me to prepare for Peeta bracing me up against the door, dipping his head and kissing me full on my open mouth.

A startled gasp passes from my parted lips to his, and soon Peeta's mouth swims into mine and begins to massage and caress me. I have never in my life had a man kiss me, nor had a man's tongue in my mouth. "Mmmm..." I let out something of a whimper, hovering in the back of my throat, and soon I feel Peeta's calloused palms cradle my face, tilting my head up and back as he deepens the kiss.

My brain has melted into mush. I surrender to my own seduction. I close my eyes.

I feel myself kiss Peeta back.

Peeta's deft fingers have now woven themselves into my brown hair. I feel them undo the signature braid running down my back, so that my hair cascades down my shoulders in waves. I sense my arms encircle Peeta's back as I pull him closer. Soon, his ravishing of my mouth slows into flurries of desperate pecks, with his lips quickly moving down my face, my cheeks, my chin, my neck. My eyelids flutter but don't open, my vision hooded as my breath is drawn forth from me in rough gasps, as though Peeta's lips remain firmly pressed against my own and are drawing the air out of my body.

Peeta's hands dip lower, dancing along my arms, the dip of my swelling breasts, my hips. I moan long and low, and instinctively spread my legs wide, laying myself open against him. My one hand has curled into a fist and is resting over my heart, as I turn my skull from side to side, anxiously awaiting for something I have not yet been able to name, but I know it is coming.

It comes when I feel my lace panties peeled back along my thighs and down to my ankles, exposing my femininity to the humid summer air. The petals of my sex are slick with arousal, the want running down my legs... I squirm with want when I feel what seems to be Peeta's nose brushing up against my folds as he smells.

And then... I cry out as Peeta rears his head forward and takes me in his mouth. He quite literally buries his face between my legs, his magical tongue plundering deep into my core, lapping and licking and suckling whatever my womanliness can give him.

"Hmmmmm... Uhhhhh... Uhhhhhhh... Uh, Oh, uh!" I whimper plaintively, sweetly as Peeta ravishes my maiden nether regions. I buck, slap my pelvis pleadingly into his face. My legs quiver with every spasm of pleasure that Peeta's tongue gives me. Pretty soon, I am wobbling; only the wall is keeping me from tumbling over dead away. Peeta's hands, at present left idle with nothing to do, come up to cup and squeeze my breasts. I feel my womanly curves rise like yeast in an oven to meet his touch and I shudder like a small rabbit.

"I love you!" Peeta's breath is hot and husky on my vagina, and the sound of his voice causes me to tremble.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh..." I wail, the sound sighing from me, and I tremble. "Peeta... I'm gonna..." My walls clench around him, trapping his face in between my thighs. "OHHHHHH!" My orgasm crashes over me like a wave; I float down back to Earth in the arms of an invisible parachute as Peeta finally emerges from me. I let out a whine at the loss of contact, and the suddenly chillier air makes me shiver. And then I am in Peeta's arms again, the taste of my arousal on my own mouth as he conquers my lips one final time. The kiss leaves me breathless. At long last, we break apart.

"Good night, Katniss," he murmurs. Then, he disappears into his own quarters across the hall. In an absolute daze, I quietly enter my own room and stagger on unsteady legs into bed. I am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

* * *

Peeta's bestowing of oral sex on me must bring me some kind of good luck, I decide, for I find myself surviving the Bloodbath... then Gamemaker traps... then one Feast... then another. I make the Final Eight... the Last Four... the Top Two. One of the Careers dies by my hand after the rest have turned on each other. My remaining opponent at the very end turns out to be a crafty girl from District 5, who is more into fleeing than attacking. She is smaller than me, so I take her down with an arrow like I do most deers on my hunts. Thus, I am crowned the Victor of the 76th Annual Hunger Games.

I hold my final interview, am awarded the Victor's Crown, and depart home on the train with Peeta and Haymitch. My younger mentor seems to want to discuss our stolen kisses and lovemaking from that magical night, but seems unsure how to bring it up. For my part, although I have always been averse to romance and sexual relations, I cannot deny that I enjoyed the pleasure Peeta brought me. He knows how to attend to and please a woman. A sexual dalliance, to fill a primal need and nothing more, is something I would not be opposed to, and I prove it by taking Peeta into my bed every night on the train. We have wild sex, make passionate love, with highs that make me scream.

But it always Peeta's panting voice, his breath heavy on my ear and filled with "I love you's," that give me cause for great concern. My mind begins to whirl.

What if the Capitol discovered a romantic relationship between to of their newest Victors, and from such a backwater shithole like District 12? Knowing the Capitol as I now do, I imagine that the media would gush over the love story, and perhaps even pressure Peeta and I to marry. And suppose that we did get married. Would children be involved? The Capitol would insist on it. Peeta might want them too. And if there is one thing I am not ready to be, even less than a wife, it is to be a mother. I once vowed that I am would never let a man's seed fill me or my womb, that I would never go through the pains of labor only to fall in love with those fruits and then see them ripped from my arms and into the Reaping Bowl. Into the arena.

And if there is one thing I know about the Games, it is that the child of a Victor (rare though they are) - never mind two - are guaranteed for the arena. Always a favorite for the Reaping. And no child of a Victor has ever become a Victor in his or her own right.

And I would have to go through with it, if Peeta and I ever did get pregnant. Under District 12 and greater Panemian law, it is very difficult to get an abortion. Though it is technically not illegal, the stigma is high enough that it might as well be. I refuse to put myself in a situation for which there is no escape.

And so, by the end of the journey, there are no more illicit trysts in my bed. I have become wary and distant towards Peeta. He is enough of a gentleman to leave me alone, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. When the train pulls into the District 12 station, we three Victors almost slump off the train in exhaustion, despite the celebrations for my win.

I might be able to fuck Peeta Mellark every day for the rest of my life and enjoy it, but I could never give my heart to him. Risk a relationship with him that includes love as well as sex. Our diametrically opposed upbringings - and the animosity that comes with it - would foil our love anyway.

And so, when my hunting partner Gale Hawthorne, kisses me right on the mouth one day after our hunt and asks me for my hand in marriage, I quietly and solemnly say Yes. Gale is consistent. We have known each other since we were children. I am 18, he is 20 - certainly old enough to marry. Many people in the Seam - Mother included - have expected us to marry anyway, so we do.

I don my mother's white wedding dress and we hold the wedding ceremony right in the living room of my new mansion in Victor's Village. Gale Toasts the bread over the fireplace, as is custom, and in the presence of my mother, sister, Haymitch and Peeta, I say I do. I try not to look at my fellow Victor as tilting my head, I permit my new husband to kiss me passionately.

My husband makes sweet love to me in our bed that night, and though his talents are far different from Peeta, he makes me cum and it is pleasing enough.


	2. Chapter 2: Marrying Into This Family

**Chapter 2: Marrying Into This Family **

**Primrose's POV **

I was quite shocked when Katniss decided to become Gale Hawthorne's wife; I thought my sister never wanted to get married. But she seems to uphold her duties quite well, and clearly makes my new brother-in-law over the moon happy. Mother is thrilled when Gale and Katniss announce that they are expecting their first child.

With Katniss's win in the Games, Mother and I become quite renowned as Healers. My only fear is that I will be Reaped in one of my four remaining years of entry into the Games, by virtue of my being the great Katniss Everdeen's baby sister. Children and siblings of Victors are always good ratings boosters for a Games. If I am ever selected, I am sure to die. So I throw myself into my work and spend as much time as possible with my boyfriend, Rory Hawthorne. Mother seems to be working her matchmaker ways, thinking it is perfect for two sisters to marry into the same family. The years pass quickly.

However, when I turn 17, my world shatters.

Rory, my love, is Reaped for the 79th Annual Hunger Games. I get assurances from Peeta Mellark, a close family friend, that he will mentor him as best as he is able. Although the female tribute is her jurisdiction, Katniss promises to help too.

Their best efforts don't matter, though. Rory Hawthorne comes home dead in a box, just like every tribute has since my sister.

I can't Heal Rory's life. Bring back Rory's life. So I resolve to carry on for him and help others heal. One of my best customers is Peeta Mellark.

Everyone has heard or watched the story of how Peeta triumphed in his Games. He scratched and clawed his way to the top, in a daring display of true grit. That doesn't mean he didn't come out of the arena without scars. They are all along his chest and back, some of the gashes still deep, despite the stitches. These scars still give Peeta some residual pain, and so it is my job to give him morphine and other painkillers to combat the discomfort. Most of the medicines he needs, I have to special order from the Capitol, but Peeta pays me more than enough to make up the cost. He visits Mother's and my simple home in the Seam once a week for these deliveries and other check-up tests; in those visits, he and I have become close friends.

Peeta seems to possess an instinctual need to protect me, probably borne out guilt over his failure to save Rory. "I tried to save him," he expresses to me, on more than one occasion. It was long ago that I forgave him. His genuine heart and goodness moves me to place in him a high degree of affection. I think that Peeta is fond of me too, from the ways that we tease and flirt as I put him through his medical exams.

It has been a rainy spring thus far, and I can tell that Peeta is less chatty than usual. He is looking ahead, to the summer heat, and the Reaping that will come with it. The Reaping for the 80th Hunger Games. My last one. I have a deep sense of foreboding that I will be picked, for name recognition and the desire to see a good bloodshed.

"You won't be picked, Prim," Peeta soothes, on his visit the day before the Reaping. "Have you arranged for a Reaping Kiss yet?"

Dabbing over one of his wounds, I blush. The Reaping Kiss is a superstitious tradition in District 12. They say that if you find a partner and share a kiss, neither you nor your partner will be picked. Though Katniss went without kissing anybody in her years of eligibility and she was still drawn for the arena, I have no reason to believe it doesn't work. At the very least, I have never heard of anyone who has been kissed only to get thrown to the arena. As for me, I would make sure every year that Rory and I stole a kiss. The one time we didn't, Mama and I overslept, and we barely made it to the square on time.

That was the year that Rory got Reaped.

I tell Peeta all of this, trying not to get emotional. "I don't know of anyone who would want to kiss me now," I confess, and that goes for beyond the Reaping.

Peeta's face furrows in thought. Suddenly standing up from the examination table, he takes me in his arms and kisses me wildly on the lips. I suck in a breath, startled, and only have enough of my wits about me to hold him fast and somewhat kiss him back. When we break the kiss at last, my brow creases, amused. I swat at him. "Ain't ya ever learned to ask a girl before kissing her?"

Peeta laughs, though he does not let me out of his arms. I shiver as his one paw of a hand caresses through the tendrils of my blonde hair. "Primrose?"

"Y... yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

I cock one eyebrow. "Katniss would kill you for your grammar. But yes, you may... Mmmmm..." The rest of my words die in my throat as Peeta yanks me flush against him and pushes his lips ravishingly against my mouth. Closing my eyes, I swoon with a moan and enthusiastically return the kiss, all but certain that I am safe from the Games forever now. I feel dizzy when Peeta pulls away.

"Prim... when I get back from the Games, will you marry me?"

My mouth drops open at this unexpected proposal. Married? Me? Peeta Mellark wants to marry _me_? I'm only 18! Then again, my sister was only 18 when she got married. Giddy with a beaming smile, I grab Peeta's face and smash his lips against mine in answer.

"Yes," I whisper. Peeta smiles, and we embrace.

* * *

As predicted, Peeta's passionate kiss saves me from the Reaping Bowl this year. And when Peeta comes home, he and I announce our nuptials. My sister seems utterly startled by the engagement, but gives her blessing, along with a vote of confidence that she knows Peeta will treat me well.

I get married in the family wedding gown, just as Katniss did before me and Mother did before her. Peeta and I Toast the bread, then we kiss and everyone cheers.

Weeks later, I am stricken to learn that Mother has passed away in her sleep. She was only 46 years old.


	3. Chapter 3: A Sister's Advances

**Chapter 3: A Sister's Advances **

**Peeta's POV**

The death of my mother-in-law isn't the only tragedy to befall the family I have wed into. Several months after Prim's and my wedding, my brother-in-law, Gale Hawthorne, tragically perishes in a mining accident. It is one of the worst collapses in District 12 history, the worst on record - close to 70 men lose their lives in the rubble and ensuing blaze. My wife's sister, Katniss Hawthorne (neé Everdeen) is left the widowed mother of a little boy, and is pregnant with her second child.

It is left up to me to take care of the funeral. Primrose receives an urgent medical assignment from the Capitol. Being the wife of a Victor, she is afforded the opportunity to travel for her career, and I let her go. She clearly does not want to be around for the memorials for Gale, and seems to wish to be alone in her grief. She tells me in our bed one night that her Healing work in the Capitol might do some good for her, to cope. I see my wife off with a kiss goodbye on the train, then turn my attention along with Haymitch to bury my brother-in-law. Katniss wears all black in mourning on the funeral's rainy day, and is inconsolable.

Prim's assignment takes her away from home for many weeks, and I am left alone in an empty house. From observing the mansion next door, I can how Katniss's belly has grown steadily rounder; it is a miracle she hasn't lost the baby.

One evening, I am preparing myself dinner, when there is a knock at the door. I open it to find my sister-in-law with a very pronounced stomach, and she staggers in without even waiting for me to ask her inside. She is crying, clutching her stomach, and at first I wonder if she is in labor, or in any kind of pain.

"Katniss, what's wrong?"

"I want Gale!" she cries. "I want Gale in my bed and I can't have him; my libido is driving me crazy!" I blush at the comments untoward; the last thing I want to know about is my sister-in-law's sex drive. Primrose can be pretty horny and assertive when she wants to be, and although we have yet to discuss having children, I have a feeling that when she does get pregnant, she will want to make love heartily and often. Primrose is half-Merchant on her mother's side, so any children of ours would be three-quarters Merchant, just as any children of Katniss and Gale's will be three-quarters Seam. And speaking of children...

"Where's John?" I ask, referring to Katniss's son, and Primrose's and my nephew.

"Haymitch is with him," Katniss dismisses. She raises her eyes to me, looking and sounding like a lost little kid. "Can... can I stay with you?"

I nod, and with a shrug, lead her over to the couch, where I hold her as she weeps. It is many minutes, before she calms, and says, with a sniffle, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I blink.

"You've never been anything but kind to me, and I've disappointed you time and time again. I... I'll always regret not responding to advances all those years ago."

I gape at her in astonishment, my heart pounding, and all at once begin to feel very nervous. My heart leaps into my head practically, when Katniss's hand suddenly cups my cheek, turning my face and her lips crane up to kiss me deeply on the mouth.

At first, I don't resist, but then I pull away. "Katniss..." I breathe, my voice heavy, "we can't do this." Though she may be widowed, I am still a married man - married to her sister! - and I want to remain faithful to my wife.

She blinks, eyelids hooded while staring at me with doe eyes. "Why not?" she whispers huskily. And then she is moving her mouth along my jawline, leaving her lips and hot breath lingering against my jaw. Her mouth feels wet against my skin.

My principles crumble. I give in. Tilting her head back, I kiss Katniss roughly on the mouth. Moaning almost in relief, she kisses me back, and we tumble back onto the couch, making out.

Like all those years before, the hem of Katniss's blue dress rides up high along her thighs and she spreads her legs eagerly for me. Our fingers and hands tug at clothes in our haste to undress each other, and I soon have myself lined up to her entrance.

I plunge into my sister-in-law, the woman I have still in some small, unspoken measure wanted for years, and begin to thrust. And thrust. And thrust.

"Oooooh... Ahhhh... Ahhhh... Uhhhh... Mmmm... Hmmmm... Guhh... fuck, fuck, fuck, motherfucker..." Katniss is babbling and moaning sounds in my ears, her fingernails clawing at my back.

I growl like an animal, stoking and stoking her core, and finally with a weak slam, two, I spill all I have into her. With a sexy wail, Katniss follows moments later.

We stay on the couch that night, wrapped in each other's arms, confident that the train from the Capitol is days away and likely won't be back until well after tomorrow. I wake up late the day after to find that my sister-in-law, sex hormones satisfied, is gone.


	4. Chapter 4: Saved

**Chapter 4: Saved **

**Cashmere's POV**

Primrose Mellark (neé Everdeen) never returns home. A violent rebellion in the city streets is put down by the Capitol. Bombs fall from the sky and medics treating the victims are killed.

The body of the sister and wife of a Victor is transported home, and District 12 holds a fine funeral for their favorite daughter. Peeta Mellark, the husband, is beyond all hope - Katniss Everdeen, even worse so. It is only weeks later when I read in the papers that Katniss locked herself and her child in her mansion and sets it ablaze, killing herself, her little boy and her unborn baby.

Ever since my friend Peeta's Victory in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, I have kept tabs on the young man. We sit next to each other most days while they are broadcasting the arena, and have always been close friends. We even exchange letters on occasion. But ever since the death of his family, one by one, Peeta has closed himself off. The letters have stopped. When Haymitch finally sends me a panicked missive, telling me he can't get through to him, I resolve to go down there to Twelve and straighten the boy out myself.

I sweep of the train as it is still pulling into the District 12 platform, making a beeline for Victor's Village. I have only passed through here a few times on Victory Tours, including my own, and have always found it to a dull, hardscrabble place. Nothing against the people, particularly Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta. But I would never want to live here - unless given a compelling enough reason to stay.

Haymitch is relieved to see that I have arrived, and directs me to Peeta's house. I knock on the door and after he does not answer, let myself in - refusing to budge even after he insists that he's fine.

"You're not fine," I tell him. "So I staying here to help you until I'm satisfied that you are."

So I move into Peeta's place and proceed to get his life in order. He helps only half-heartedly, expressing more than once that he does not need to babied. His lack of enthusiasm is discouraging.

After two weeks pass with no change, I give up. I want to help Peeta, but to do that he needs to start by helping himself. Defeated, and fighting back tears, I move to pack my bags. Only at the door do I stop and look back at him.

"I've only ever wanted to help you, Peeta."

He stares at me blankly, only feet from me. "Why are you doing this?"

I stare at him, hard. But then my expression softens, and draping an arm about his neck, I kiss him full on the mouth. The sexy sound of our smacking lips is all that can be heard, and I am pleased when Peeta does not immediately pull away. Indeed, he returns the kiss, pressing me back into the door a little. It is a long moment of heated kissing before I pull away.

"Because I love you," I tell him sadly. "I've always loved you."

Peeta looks shocked, but then his face deflates with sympathy. His eyes are sad. "Oh, Cash... I love you too." And by that answer, for the first time, I see it: hope. I give a small smile.

"Now, Peeta Mellark, will you please just kiss me?"

Peeta obliges, pushing me up against the door and we kiss more passionately. My suitcases lay forgotten. Peeta's hands quickly grip the flesh of my buttocks and I raise my leg to his waist. Soon, we are rutting against each other and making out like two teenagers. At long last, I come up for air, breathless.

"If I asked you to, would you marry me? Will you marry me?"

I gaze at him lovingly, playing with the nape of his neck. "Yes," I whisper. He has proposed, and I have accepted. Grinning, out faces hover close together, and soon our lips meet again in a gentle kiss. I smile and relax into the kiss, feeling safe and at home in his arms.

* * *

I move into Peeta's mansion permanently, and have all my stuff transported from District 1. Not long after, Peeta Mellark and I are married, in the corner of his living room. Old Haymitch Abernathy and my Victor brother, Gloss, are the only two people in attendance.

The son of a baker, Peeta Toasts a bit of bread over the fire, and I marvel at District 12's wedding tradition. It's certainly better than the ones back home - an example being that the groom has to deflower his bride for all the wedding party to see. It is a curse, our district's vanity. But here and in this ceremony, we don't need to do that, and certainly not with my brother watching.

Gloss, who has been conducting the ceremony, smiles. "I now pronounce this couple husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

After we Toast the bit of bread and share it, Peeta takes my face in his hands. Tilting it back, he permits himself to kiss me, and closing my eyes and flinging my arms about his neck, I hum in approval as I kiss him back. I nearly climb up him like a tree as my brother and Haymitch roar and whoop their approval. Sweeping me off my feet, Peeta carries me away grandly, into our bedroom where he begins to make sweet, gentle love to me. Never before have I been married, and my husband has given his vows before only once. But I could get used to this - being a wife in the married life.


End file.
